Moonlight and Tempest
by TheOne16th
Summary: They were exiled, scorned by their own people, and lost in their own path to redemption. With him, the wind that guided his life and blade, now all astray. Above her, the moon, cast down by the sun. Their journeys were without direction and bound to end in failure, but a timely encounter, and the converging of two paths, was to change that all.


Chapter One: Sword To Sword

Narlon isn't any different from an average Demacian town. It's big, yes, but anyone can say that it's small too. There's some alleyways here and there, stalls selling random things, the occasional town crier, and people(with some Yordles, Bandle immigrants) going about their business. It's not so noisy, and it's the type of town that, when you get used to it, doesn't seem so big. I like it that way. Don't have to spend too much time here, not much to see, stay at some tavern by a corner, then leave for another town. Simple.

It's getting dark, and there are the lantern boys doing their business, lighting the oil lamps by the sidewalks and houses. I'd sleep in the streets with the sort of safety a Demacian town has, but I still have some gold to spare for a bed and bottle. A cheap place is fine, and I usually find them in an alley, where all the 'rough-folk' go. You'd think it's uncomfortable, but I stayed in worse places. A tavern's is more than enough comfort for me.

Past the common street noise, the breaking of a bottle and the laughs of drunken men. Just what I wanted to hear. There's a dark alley to my left. I look up. A sign hangs, the wood shaking to the wind: 'Boarnak's' written in heavy black ink. Sounds like a Freljordic. At the end of the alleyway, there's a faint glow of yellow light, like the lights coming out of an open door.

I headed for it.

There's the tavern. I stand in front of it. The wood of it looked old and dirty, and it looked more like an overgrown squatter's house. The laughter, the drunken conversations, a flute playing, and the clunking of tankards full of beer all came from that place. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I entered.

There were about eight round tables placed in rows, some empty with spilled tankards, others full of people gambling with cards, and a few with people actually having a good time. Oil lamps hang from the ceiling. The floor had some spilled alcohol, no different from the table tops. There were the average tavern-goers, the ones who come to have some genuine merriment, there were the tavern harlots, going about flirting with whoever was the biggest or richest, and there were the 'big' people: mercenaries who like to show their business by wearing some armor and bringing their weapons, and the bouncer, a large red-bearded guy with a mace and studded leather armor, sitting near the counter at this stool that could barely hold him. Other than those guys, there was the bard, reciting some dusty love poem with his flute, and, there was me, a drifter.

I never sat by those round tables with other folks. I always found those bar stools by the counter as my place here, and that's where I went. Never really liked talking to a lot of people anyway. A good drink is all the conversation I need before I get some sleep.

The tavern keeper was some old Yordle with bad teeth and green fur. So much for a buff Freljordic bartender. He works quick though, wiping the counter then serving drinks in a span that makes one think that he's a legendary bottle juggler or something.

I slide three gold coins out. "Ionian Haruni, please." I say, and my coin is gone and my drink's there. He didn't even talk. Amazing. I've got patience but at least I didn't have to wait. I pop the dry cork and grab the familiar green haruni bottle by its neck. Then, just like old times, I take a long sip. Haruni is best when you have people to talk with; you can feel the taste more when you talk, but, heh, all alone is fine too.

I take a glance to my left and right, just to see the other lonely bastards who make my company. The left side had this man with a platoon of empty bottles of ale in front of him. His head was buried to the counter, but he didn't look like he was sleeping, just somehow wasted. He must've been some mercenary, judging from that double-barreled gun by his back. To the right, was some pale white-haired woman with this strange tattoo on her forehead. She only had a bottle in front of her, looked like cheap beer, and she hadn't even gotten past the neck. There was this crescent blade that rested in front of her stool. Another mercenary maybe.

I mind my own business. Still nothing out of the ordinary anyway. I take another sip. I had things to worry about, but my mind felt empty. I didn't want to think right now. I just don't know if I'll find that scum in the mainland, but I had to try. He knows that I'm looking for him. Now I had something to think of.

"Alright, alright! Listen up, people!" I hear behind me. I turn my head to whoever was shouting. "It's time for another Blade Wrestling championship!" A bald man, in his forties or so, raised a fat sack of gold above him for all the crowd to see. He had just entered and he had a whole crowd with him. One beside him was a large man that made the bouncer look like a poor cat. The head of his war cleaver peeked out of his shoulder, and, since he was so damn tall, he had to hunch a bit so that he wouldn't bump the door frame.

The crowd cheered. The bard played some joyful number. I only watched.

"This time, the stakes are even higher! Last time twas' one thousand gold coins, but now, we got a bigger pot of three grand!" The crowd cheered on. Looks like they were well-acquainted with this sport. "And! And... Whoever beats my champion, Lorgum The Pulverizer." He leans against the belly of the large man. "In less than two Piltoverian minutes, gets a bonus mystery prize! What that is, find out when you beat the ten-year streaking beast of a champion!"

"So... is everyone ready?!" He shouts, then the entire tavern, even the crowd outside, said 'yes'. "Then let's take it outside!" Then, everyone who was interested in that, moved out, even the bard and the harlots. It was quieter now. I shrugged and just went back to my drink. Foolish people... The blade isn't meant to be used as a toy, but... three thousand gold coins, that would last me quite long in my traveling... Hm, I can't believe I'm considering this.

"You look like you can stand a chance." Said the Yordle bartender. So he talks. He looked laxer now. "They like it when there's a new face."

"Huh, I don't know if I should." I shrugged and sipped. The different taste of the Haruni washes in as I speak. Has it been so long that I thought it didn't taste like Haruni...

"You're a drifter, yes?" He says, not even turning to me.

"And how do you know that?" I said, raising a brow at him.

"Ragged clothes, messed hair, strange smell, wrapped sword... It's obvious. You'll need the coin if you want to last long in the mainland." How observant.

Well, he's the trigger. I've drifted in the isle of Ionia for a long time and everything there was cheaper. But I've never lived in the mainland, much less been here, so I had to take this man's, or, erm... Yordle's advice. It's no good to end up with an empty pocket anyway. "Fine, fine, you've convinced me." I stood up and moved on. I hoped it was not that tiny poke of alcohol in me talking.

"Be careful now!"

I made no reply.

 **V**

The crowd was cheering on. It appears that it's already started. I keep the wrapped scabbard in my sword tight with me. They've formed a circle around two duelers, and I moved on past these people to get a better view.

He looked like a small fry, but his sword was a broadsword of Noxian making. The other guy was large, but his blade was damn thin, thinner than my own weapon's. I've never seen a blade like that, and, with that width, it wouldn't be able to slash anything.

They were locked in. The big guy seemed to be struggling even with his strength. The problem was his weapon. If only they switched blades then this battle would be over before it started.

The rapier of the larger man slipped down, almost meeting the bladeguard of the small guy. The big guy pulled up, but his opponent wouldn't let him recover. Soon, he pushed his large blade with all the strength he could. The rapier couldn't handle the weight of the broadsword, then, in an instant, its large blade plummeted to the rapier's bladeguard. The large man was pulled down and he pulled his blade away.

Now I see how this game's played.

"Gaveon's blade has met the bladeguard of Sedul's sword!. We have a winner! A hundred gold coins!" Said the same bald man. "Would anyone want to challenge Gaveon? He has defeated one so far! If he defeats two, then he advances to my championship line!"

I step out. It's my turn. I gripped to the rag-covered scabbard of my sword. I can feel everyone's eyes all over me. "I will." I say.

There was a pause, then I hear laughter, laughter from the bald tournament master alone. I can hear the age past his joy. "Looks like we have Mr. Ponytail as a challenger!" Then the crowd laughed with him. I didn't say anything. They really do like a new face and a new hairstyle too. At least I didn't have to polish my scalp twice a day.

Gaveon smirked at me, then stepped forward and positioned his blade, awaiting for my blade to meet his. The crowd's laughter has stopped and I could hear them pounding the name 'Gaveon' as I walk forward. I slide my blade out, the only friend I have left, and I position him against the balance of Gaveon's broadsword. I look at this Demacian straight in the eye. All I see is overconfidence. Good.

We begin to circle each other. I can hear his breaths. His readying for his first swipe... I won't let that.

Quickly, I swipe downwards. I hear the clanking of my blade to his bladeguard. He hadn't even moved a single muscle. It all happened in the blink of an eye. To tell you the truth, that wasn't even my fastest slash. The crowd stopped pounding for his name, and, there was silence. Was it awe? Was it shock? I don't know, but I know that I won this match.

I slide my sword back into my scabbard, but I don't let go of the grip.

"What is your name, drifter?" I hear from the bald man, who broke the ice of the quiet.

"My name doesn't matter. Bring in your next man."

I hear some random man begin to mutter. "Drifter... Drifter... Drifter..." The men around him followed. "Drifter! Drifter! Drifter!" Then the entire crowd. The game's spirit returned. They really want a show. I looked around me, and I saw all of them pumping their fists in the air. Then I look back to the bald man. He had an eyebrow raised at me.

A man stepped out of the crowd then into the clearing. He was topless, like some man out of a jungle with short hair and fringes that shadowed his eyes. Behind him, peeked the ends of two curved swords. He pulled them out and pointed one to me. The crowd cheered on. I had to oblige.

He went into position, placing his scimitars in an 'X' fashion.

I unsheathed my sword again then placed it on top of where his blades met. There was no force yet. I can feel that he's relaxed. Unlike the other guy, he wasn't stiff. If he were stiff then it'd be a bit more difficult to break the formation of his sword. He wants to do something and I don't know what is it.

We begin to circle. His eyes watch me carefully from the shadows of his fringes. I can't hear his breathing, as if he is as calm as me right now. He's waiting for a move, from the looks of it, and that means he'll do something tricky if I go first. Then I would have to counter that. Speed isn't going to help me for now. I'm going to need force.

I push down a bit, just very slowly. We stopped circling. His formation went stiffer, and the blades only moved a slight bit and towards my bladeguard. Now I know what he wants to do. I stopped pushing my blade down and returned to being relaxed. I've got to do what he isn't expecting.

I raise my sword above me and slashed down to his formation. He reacted quickly and blocked me with both his swords. The crowd roared. He glares at me. I can see the struggle in him. I slid my blade to the right, disarming his right sword, then I swiftly returned to sliding with his left sword. He caught my blade in time. Our impact caused a break in balance that I had to exploit. I slid to his bladeguard but the strength of both his hands wouldn't let me just yet. He's gritting his teeth, breathing heavily as he did so. He wouldn't give up.

I didn't need force anymore. I pushed down to his bladeguard with speed, and, just like the man before him, he hadn't even moved at all. My blade hung by the air after it had met his bladeguard.

"And we have a winner! The Drifter is now in the championship line!" The crowd cheered my name once again. Was it glory that I'm feeling right now? Or is it just appreciation? But I shouldn't like this. I'm misusing my weapon in a game that involves misusing my weapon, but what choice do I have?

The man picked up the sword I'd thrown off, and, before he retreated to the crowd, he spat at the ground in front of me, giving me a dreaded look before he left. 'No offense' I muttered, but he had gone into the throng.

"Maron! Step out, will you?" Said the bald man. Then my next challenger did so from beside the tournament master. "If you defeat Maron, you get to fight my Lorgum!"

I glanced at him, and I felt weak as I was caught in thought. He was an Ionian wielding a Dai blade, a blade even longer than mine. In a flash, I heard the rasp of the blade and the howling of the wind. I caught his blade just in time. Our strength and speed were just at the right amount. Could this be him? Could this be the bastard who framed me?

"I've been watching your technique, drifter." He said to me in Ionian, his eyes watching me with arrogance above his face mask. "It's quite unique and very very familiar."

"You know me, don't you?" I say in the same language I haven't heard or used for a long time.

"You're the traitor Yasuo. Clever hiding your name."

"And you think you can defeat me?" I push my blade against the metal of his. He retaliated and we were back to the same balance.

"Hmph, I think I can try with my Hawk Technique." _Hawk Technique?_ So this wasn't him. Another damn countryman that I have to fight. How many more?

He let go of our clash then leaped. I felt a foot bounce of the top of my head. I turned around. The same blade met mine. "Are you trying to kill me?" I say with gritted teeth.

"No, I was just seeing how fast you could react. It seems that your reflexes are more than good... Finally, a worthy challenge and with a man who murdered an Elder no less!"

"I did not murder him!" I slide my blade off upwards, going off the tip of his sword. I sliced towards his blade with an underhand swing. A spark erupted from the clashing of our handcrafted blades. Still, none of us could hit our bladeguards. I have to say, he is fast.

"Tell me, how did it feel to betray your own country?"

"I betrayed nothing. I was only accused."

"Oh? So who else could have killed him? Who else could have killed him with a _Wind Technique?_ " He slid his blade off the tip of mine and dashed up, darting towards me with his blade headed for my metal. I slashed upwards, but he used the impact of our swords to push him off-course. I can hear his footsteps land behind me. Another slash from the back, and I turned just in time to meet his blade.

"Don't make me serious." I said.

"So you were just getting started, hm? You're fighting the Ionian way. I like it. Then I'll show you what I can _really_ do!" He let our blades slide off again, then he climbed up my shoulder and jumped off from there. I turned, expecting another strike from behind me, but I found something different instead. He was darting towards me, spinning his entire body, his blade cutting through the air as he plummeted to me.

* * *

AN: So, this is a raw story I wrote a long time ago, during the time when I was still writing Chapter 2 or 3 of my other story, so perhaps the writing isn't so developed as with my latest chapters in my other story. It's very incomplete and I declare it more of a side-project if ever. I had other fics planned out for LoL(such as this other story, Beyond Death and Shadows), and this was an attempt to write one of them while I was writing my other story. It ended up covered in dust, and just at this day, I resurrected it and placed it here so I don't forget it because— at least— to me, it has potential.

As you may see, it's in First Person POV and it's a style I'm not too acquainted with and am trying to work on. Yes, I might not have gotten Yasuo's characterization right. And yes, this is a sort of awkward, perhaps never-before-seen pairing(I searched for Yasuo and Diana stories and found none on all ratings), but I'll try to make it work. This first chapter might be subject to changes if ever I get more serious with this particular story, and I might write it in varying chapter lengths, perhaps mostly short ones.

I update irregularly, hell, my schedule is quite cluttered these days and I'm sorta busy. And to those who know 'my other story', yes, it's alive and well. The concept of the next chapter is there and I've written about 2000 words of it. I just find it difficult to find time to write more often as I this month in particular has been busy, so no worries.

Anyways, what a long AN for a such a short chapter. Thank you and review, favorite, and follow if it suits you, constructive criticism is welcomed, and see you again soon!


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